


What Did You Expect

by OnceRulesofSuperWalkingPotter



Series: 500 Fic Challenge [23]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Gods of the Arena
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ashur is a Smartass, Explicit Language, Guilt, M/M, Self-Pity, secret friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-16 15:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17552069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceRulesofSuperWalkingPotter/pseuds/OnceRulesofSuperWalkingPotter
Summary: Ashur and Barca reflect on some of the bad things they have had to do recently for their Dominus. Ashur looses his temper and breaks down in front of Barca.





	What Did You Expect

**Author's Note:**

> See? Here I go again with another wild out of the blue pairing. A similar situation between these two might pop up in CBCB. Anyways, comments kudos summaries and bunnies are always welcomed. I hope you enjoy!

It had been a long and tiring day. Ashur was relieved that it was over. Batiatus had him and Barca all around town today. Wanted the Syrian there for advice when it came to numbers and sales. And of course bets and odds. Not that his master listened to a damned word of caution. Shaking his head he hobbles after Barca to the baths. For the time being Batiatus has ordered the Beast of Carthage to assist in bathing. Until Ashur was able to bend again at least. 

It didn't surprise him that the Gladiator resented this command. That he was less than gentle when it came to removing the damned device around his leg. Or the cleaning of his wounds. Nor was it a shock that Barca washed himself before helping the younger man. Never one to wait until Ashur got to the baths he was already undressed and submerging himself under water when Ashur made his way in. Barca surfaces scowling at the panting Syrian. 

"You are a pain in my ass." He comments voice full of disdain. Ashur sighs. 

"I am aware this is not a task you enjoy. But apologies, I can not depend on the medicus for another month." Ashur tries once more to explain. Barca huffs standing grabbing the cleaning tool and scrapping the dirt from his skin. Ashur leans against the wall struggling with his clothes. He couldn't help his eyes roaming over his commrad. The man was in excellent form. A marvel to behold. 

"Eyes up you shit." Ashur blushes, embarrassed at being caught staring. 

"Apologies." Barca snorts. 

"That is all you do. Spout lies and false apologies, if you were a gladiator-" Ashur glares pushing himself off the wall.

"I  _was_ a Gladiator. Until Crixus did  **this** to me!" He could hear his blood pounding in his ears. "Now I'm waiting patiently and doing what I have always done."

"Be a decitful snake?" White hot rage exploded in his chest. For months he has endured their hazing and abuse. And for what? Nothing.

"Survive you ass! What did you expect me and Dagan to do hmm? Tell me should we have told Batiatus, our fucking  _ **Dominus**_ , that no we wanted to NOT do as he said so we could get the mark in the test?? You wanted us to tell him what? That we wanted to be accepted into the brotherhood instead of doing what we were told? Wanted to wait so the men would be our friends? That would have gotten us killed. So excuse me for not apologizing over how I recieved the mark. I wanted to receite the oath damn it. If you recall  Doctore refusing?"

"I don't think-"

"No I don't suppose you do. You don't think about how badly I wanted to be a gladiator. How much I wanted to fight for the honor of this ludus and stand proudly upon the sands and die a  _gloorious_ death. How I didn't wish to betray my closest friend Dagan but being sold to the mines before having a chance to prove myself wasn't going to happen. How when he came at me in the middle of the _ **fucking**_ arena that I had to defend myself?! Would you have done different against Auctus?" 

The two stare at each other in shocked silence. Ashur feels a stone fall in the pit of his stomach. He had crossed the line. Gone too far. You did not speak of dead loved ones here. Hell nobody even mentioned GANNICUS anymore in fear of punishment from either Batiatus, Oenomaus or Crixus. 

"You...you saw Dagan as I saw Auctus?" Ashur blinks at the dumbfounded question. 

"Was it not obvious? Or did you miss the nights where I was screaming his name to the gods?" Ashur tilts his head unsure if it was the lighting or if Barca truly was blushing.

"It does not change anything." Barca mutters. Ashur sneers. Watching him come towards him. 

"No, it does not." 

The two stayed silent as Barca helped him undress and get out of the brace. Ashur attempted to make it to the bath on his own but had to catch himself on the gladiator about halfway there. Barca grimaces, instinctively wrapping an arm around the Syrian's waist to support him. His skin crawls any time he was forced to touch this snake. As a result he all but drops Ashur on the edge. Ashur curses under his breath gaining one from Barca in return. He didn't mean to be so rough with the cripple. 

"Apologies. You slipped." He offers instead. Ashur shoots him a glare over his shoulder. Barca takes a step back at the tears he sees shimmering. 

"Forget it. You're right. I slipped out if your grasp." He shakes his head reaching for the cup of water. Barca watches him struggle for a moment. 

"Here you shit." He finally huffs passing it over. For once Ashur was silent. A nod in thanks was all he responded with. Barca frowns. 

"If you wish to go check on Pietros I can simply call for you when needed. Or I'll get one of the guards...or the medicus to assist." Ashur informs after a moment of uncomfortable quiet. Barca raises an eyebrow. He hesitates before moving towards the exit. He swears he was going to leave. Swears that he wanted to.

But the echo of a broken sob stops him dead. 

Barca stands still hands clenched into fists. Walk away. He keeps telling himself. Just  _walk **away**_. 

Eventually, Barca bows his head with a heavy sign. Fuck. 

"I have no time for your tears Syrian." He snaps stomping back over his arms folded. Ashur's shoulder shake as he wipes at his face. 

"A-apo-hic-apologies. I do not wish to w-waste your time." He blubbers. Barca's lip curls. He hated,  _hated_ seeing anyone cry. Delicate things cry. Men did not. Awkwardly he reaches out and pats Ashur on the head. 

"Quit your bawling." He instructs. Ashur gulps down some air not looking up. Barca groans inwardly. "It's not that bad." Ashur sniffs loudly. Sighs, he sits down next to the cripple. 

"Your presence is welcomed and a comfort but I do not need your pity. Nor do I want it." Ashur mumbles with another sniff. Barca watches a tear roll off his nose. 

"Nor do you have it." That seemed to get some sort of reaction. He sees the Syrian straighten a little taking a deep shaky breath. 

"Of course. How presumptuous of me. I forgot for a moment that I'm  _useful_ not  _wanted_." Barca winces. That was harsh even coming from Ashur. 

"You and Dagan fell apart before his death, didn't you?" He asks changing the subject. Ashur's lip visibly trembles. 

"It was my fault...he and I were arguing." He closes his eyes taking another breath. 

"About what?" 

"Nothing at first. We were stressed and snipping at each other. One night he was rougher than normal." Barca vaguely remembers Ashur having a bruise on his thigh a while back. "I was mad about it and he accused me of wanting to bed Crixus." Ashur slumps his shoulders. 

"D-doesn't everyone?" Barca asks, hesitant to be joking around with the younger man. Ashur looks up spreading his arms. 

"That's what I said!" Oh no. Ashur sighs his arms falling. "So you can imagine how he handled that." Barca nods thinking he understands where the bruise came from.

"Is that why you gave him to the Roman the way you did?" Barca asks remembering the way Rhaskos informed the rest of them. Ashur shudders but nods. 

"I knew I could never make him feel the way I did with my own body...and he never forgave me. Not that he should have. I was angry and did the worst thing I could think of...I was a fool." He mumbles pathetically. Barca slowly wraps an arm around him. 

"Auctus and I had a similar fight before." Ashur stares at him, obviously stunned. "Doctore had us fight it out on the sands because we were making everyone else miserable." Ashur's eyes widen. 

"And you both lived." Barca grins, lost in the memory. 

"We ended up weaponless, wrestling on the ground." Ashur peers up at him, looking genuinely interested. "We were so mad at each other that we forgot anyone else was watching, let alone nearby." Barca chuckles shaking his head. "We uh, we..." He trails off causing Ashur to gasp.

"You did no such thing!" Barca laughs at the absolute shock in his voice. "No! This was back with Titus as the Dominus!" Barca laughs harder. 

"Every else was just too stunned. They didn't know what to do. But when our subligaria were half off, Titus started shouting hysterics." The two of them laugh, it was oddly nice. Talking to the Syrian. 

"Gratitude. For sharing the story." Ashur says pulling away and wobbly standing up. Barca rests a hand on his lower back.

"In a rush?" Ashur snorts. 

"No. I've simply kept you overly long and do not wish to cause any arguments between you and Pietros. Your assistance has been a great comfort." Barca raises an eyebrow watching him finish bathing hurriedly. 

"And this new found kindness?" Ashur smiles softly. A look that surprised Barca.

"Born from your own." The two share a small smile. Both a little sad that tomorrow would bring back the hostility. And that was a fact they both knew.

"The sentiment is well received." Barca stands and helps him finish. They stay silent as the brace and clothes were replaced. Ashur notices it seems Barca doesn't plan on bothering with his subligaria again tonight. 

They walk out of the baths together, Barca helping up till the doorway. The comfortable silence shifted to slightly awkward as they looked at one another. Barca nods firmly. Ashur smiles and copies him.

"Sweet dreams my friend." Ashur tells him while giving a small wave. Barca rolls his eyes.

"I am not your friend." Ashur shrugs. "But...you too, you Syrian shit." Barca departs with a chuckle. Ashur watches him go grinning. This was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.


End file.
